


To Forgive Yourself

by KCKenobi



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Master and Apprentice - Claudia Gray
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Insomnia, Light Angst, Mentioned Qui-Gon Jinn, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Mess, POV Mace Windu, POV Obi-Wan Kenobi, Poor Obi-Wan Kenobi, Post-Star Wars: The Phantom Menace, Sad Obi-Wan Kenobi, Young Obi-Wan Kenobi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:41:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24175279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KCKenobi/pseuds/KCKenobi
Summary: Obi-Wan wasn’t fast enough to save Qui-Gon, and the failure haunts him. After weeks of blaming himself for his master’s death, a conversation with Mace Windu forces him to address his grief.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Mace Windu, Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 20
Kudos: 241





	To Forgive Yourself

It was 2 AM in the Jedi Temple, and Obi-Wan Kenobi was running laps.

His shoes hit the track, the sound pounding and pounding like a heartbeat. Blood rushing in his ears, breath coming in ragged bursts, he forced himself faster, _faster_. Every step struck the ground with more force. As if with each one, he might stamp out the memory of Qui-Gon Jinn’s dying face.

 _Come on,_ he urged himself. _Almost there. You’re faster this time. You must be._

With a final push of stamina, Obi-Wan pumped his arms even harder.

He flew past the self-declared finish line, sending out a hand to pause the stopwatch with the Force. He didn’t stop right away – momentum carried him quite a few paces before he could slow enough to circle back.

As he picked up the stopwatch, wiping his sweat on the back of his hand, he chewed the inside of his cheek. He _had_ to have beaten his last time. He was faster. Right?

He checked the stopwatch with shaky hands.

_Wrong_.

Obi-Wan groaned and slammed his back against the wall, sliding to sit on the floor.

_How could I have gotten_ slower? _It doesn’t make sense. I’ve been training for two weeks, and I’ve got nothing to show for it._

He was only seething with anger for a moment or so before he remembered himself. Frustration wasn’t the way of a Jedi. He thought of Anakin, asleep back in their apartment, and what he’d think if he saw his master lose his cool like that. Really, what he’d think if he knew _anything_ about his master. Sure, perhaps the boy resented the fact that Qui-Gon wasn’t the one to train him – kark, Obi-Wan did, too – but he still looked at him with stars in his eyes. Saw perfection where there was only error. But he knew it was only a matter of time. The boy would realize soon enough that Obi-Wan was a screw-up.

A screw-up who was too blasted slow.

Obi-Wan reset the stopwatch and sprinted off again.

_This time,_ he promised himself. _This time I’ll be fast enough._

_Fast enough that I could’ve saved him._

Mace Windu was passing the training dojo when he noticed it – the sound of pounding feet and an echo of pain through the Force.

He was alone in the corridor. It was late – or _early,_ rather, now that he thought about it – and all but the nocturnal beings had long been asleep. It wasn’t terribly uncommon for Jedi to be on non-standard sleeping schedules, especially after off-world missions, but something made him pause. The Force signature leaking from the dojo was familiar. _Could it be…?_

Master Windu peered into the room to see Obi-Wan Kenobi flying around the track like a blaster bolt.

And, in spite of himself, he couldn’t help but stare. Obi-Wan was running at full-sprint, his feet moving so fast he almost didn’t see them hit the ground. But there was something off about it. Mace shook his head – Obi-Wan was barely 25, his hair still cropped short from a padawan’s cut, but he moved like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

And really, Mace pondered, he sort of did.

As much as he wanted to honor Qui-Gon’s dying wishes, he wondered whether assigning Obi-Wan a padawan had been a wise decision. Especially _this_ particular padawan – Anakin Skywalker was bursting with more emotions than he knew what to do with, and Force knows Obi-Wan had enough to sort through himself, after what had happened…

Obi-Wan stopped sprinting. Shoulders rising and falling with heavy breaths, he jogged over to check what appeared to be a stopwatch.

And promptly hurled it at the nearest wall.

Mace couldn’t help himself – he snorted.

“With an arm like that, you ought to play for the Coruscant Cubs,” he called from the doorway. “Force knows they could use a competent pitcher.”

“Master Windu.” Obi-Wan whirled to face him, blushing furiously. “I didn’t…I should’ve sensed you were there. Forgive me.”

As Mace crossed the dojo, he could see even clearer the sweat on Obi-Wan’s face. He was obviously trying to control his panting, but his breaths came in shudders all the same. Mace noticed a water bottle on the bench and picked it up, tossing it to Obi-Wan. He caught it and took a few long gulps.

“I would’ve expected you to be asleep long ago,” Mace said when he’d finished. “Doesn’t your padawan tire you out enough?”

Obi-Wan smiled, but it was more of a grimace.

“He certainly keeps me on my toes,” he replied. “But I still need time for my own training. And since…well, I wasn’t tired. So...”

He nodded toward the track. Mace’s gaze trailed down to the floor, where the stopwatch lay discarded a few paces away. He bent down and grabbed it.

“Fourteen seconds,” he said, running his thumb across the screen. “What’re you running, the hundred-meter?”

Obi-Wan nodded, gaze cast down, and Mace took the opportunity to study him. Up close, the dark circles beneath his eyes were pronounced. His face was pale in spite of physical exertion, and the glimmer of sweat made him look ghostly. It was like looking at an imposter, a mannequin – he was fragile, and certainly hollow within.

Mace knew he was treading dangerous territory, but he risked the inquiry anyway. “Obi-Wan, I know the past few weeks can’t have been easy. But are you…?”

“I’m managing, Master. Your concern is appreciated.”

The response was polite enough, but curt.

Mace leaned a shoulder against the wall, folding his arms across his chest. Obi-Wan’s mental shields were firmly in place, and his face betrayed nothing. But his eyes couldn’t lie. If he hadn’t felt that ripple of emotion in the Force earlier, he might’ve missed the anguish in them.

But he’d known Obi-Wan since he was a crecheling. Over the years he’d been his teacher, his advisor, and lately, his friend. If there was one thing he’d learned, it was this: no matter what he saw in Obi-Wan’s eyes, it would take a miracle to get him to admit it.

He supposed it didn’t hurt to try. After all, miracles were Mace Windu’s specialty.

Obi-Wan had experienced his share of unfortunate moments. As a padawan, he’d once fallen into a pit of Firebeetles, with no protection against their skittering legs and carnivorous fangs. For weeks he’d awoken in cold sweat, dreaming they were crawling across his skin.

But however uncomfortable he’d been then, Obi-Wan decided, watching Mace Windu try to offer him sympathy was infinitely worse.

He was composing a mental list of possible plans to escape this situation when Windu sat down on the bench and nodded for Obi-Wan to join him. He briefly considered making a run for it before slowly sinking down beside him.

“Young Skywalker will test you. Padawans always do,” Master Windu said, his voice lilted with amusement. “But raising him to Knighthood will be the making of you. Of that I’m certain.”

“I’ve sensed as much. That is, if I survive that long.”

Mace chuckled. “He’s not so different from another padawan I once knew. Angry, unsure. Chafing under the tutelage of his master…”

Obi-Wan was smiling, though he looked a little sheepish. “I had a temper, I know.” His eyes fell to the stopwatch still in Master Windu’s hand, and huffed. “Still do, I suppose.”

“That’s the funny part about becoming a master – suddenly, you can see your own brashness from your own master’s point of view.”

“Please,” Obi-Wan said, “Qui-Gon was just as brash as I was. More so, maybe. Don’t you remember Pijal? He completely violated our mandate.”

Mace chuckled. “That’s true. By the Force, you should’ve seen your face when you pleaded to the council. You were quaking in your boots.”

“I was not. Though, to be fair, Qui-Gon was on the verge of dumping me as his apprentice. I think I had a right to be a little uneasy,” Obi-Wan said, hardly believing what he was hearing. Was he actually _bantering_ with Master Windu? “Goodness, I haven’t thought about Pijal in a long time. I thought Qui-Gon was going to have my head.”

“You know he wouldn’t have. He still thought the world of you,” Master Windu said, then smirked. “As much as you argued with him. A temper, indeed.”

“Hey, most of the time, the council agreed with me,” Obi-Wan insisted. “Though that probably pissed him off even more.”

“The feeling was mutual. I think pissing off the council was Qui-Gon’s favorite pastime.”

Obi-Wan laughed, and to his surprise, it was genuine. He hadn’t laughed – _really_ laughed – since before Naboo. He rather expected he’d never be able to again.

But his amusement left quickly, sucker punched by guilt.

“If it weren’t for me,” Obi-Wan said, “Maybe he still could. I’d give anything to argue with him again.”

Obi-Wan regretted the words as soon as he’d said them. Those were not the thoughts of a Jedi. They were reserved for the back of his mind, the dark parts that no one ever got to see. The smile faded from Master Windu’s lips, and he turned to Obi-Wan with furrowed brows.

“You know you’re not to blame for Qui-Gon’s death, right?”

Obi-Wan said nothing.

Because Master Windu didn’t know the truth. Nobody did. The story floating around the Temple was that Obi-Wan Kenobi defeated the Sith, avenged his master, and saved Naboo from certain destruction. He was knighted without needing to pass his trials – he’d proven himself, the council decided – and so Master Kenobi he became. A hero.

But he wasn’t a hero. He was a fraud.

“I should be going,” he said abruptly, pushing himself up to stand. “Wouldn’t want Anakin to wake and find me gone.”

“Obi-Wan, wait.”

“Good evening, Master Windu.”

He had turned his back and started to walk away when Mace Windu did something that surprised both of them – he grabbed his arm. Obi-Wan stared down at the hand gripping his sleeve. His eyes slowly trailed up to Master Windu’s face, and the gentleness found there was disarming.

Obi-Wan wanted to pull away. He wanted to be alone, where at least he could be a failure without any witnesses. He strengthened his mental shields, but the Force seemed to ripple around him, loosening his grip. It was whispering.

Telling him to let go.

“There were ray shields,” he found himself saying. His voice wobbled at the memory of Theed Palace. “I was running to help Qui-Gon but…I wasn’t fast enough. I was trapped behind the ray shields when the Sith Lord…”

He stopped talking. He _had_ to, or else he’d start crying instead, and that simply wouldn’t do. Suddenly, his legs felt too wobbly to keep him upright. He lowered himself back down to sit on the bench, staring down at the scuffs on the dojo floor.

“Obi-Wan,” Windu said softly, “it isn’t your fault. You have to forgive yourself. And let yourself grieve.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “Grief is attachment.”

“Grief is _human_.” His voice sharpened. “You can release your emotions into the Force in time. But not until you’ve processed them. You’re allowed to feel. You’re allowed to hurt.”

Now he was really in danger of crying. The tightness in his throat was a clear warning, and Obi-Wan tried to swallow it down. Not here, in front of someone else. _Mace Windu_ , of all people. But he felt his eyes fill up anyway, and one tear slipped down his cheek before he could blink them back. Thankfully, Master Windu didn’t say anything.

Qui-Gon had always held credence in the idea that no one could be defined by their mistakes, that _“people are more than their worst act.”_ During his apprenticeship, Obi-Wan had believed him. But he hadn’t known then what his own worst act would be. If he had, if he could have foreseen his own abysmal failure…

But as the words echoed in his mind, it struck him. Qui-Gon had managed to see goodness in everyone – to see them as more than what they’d done. He forgave people, afforded them the kindness they didn’t even give themselves.

So of course, Obi-Wan realized, Qui-Gon would have forgiven him.

And if that was so, perhaps he could forgive himself, too.

“Tired, Master Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan didn’t realize his eyes were fluttering closed until he opened them. Goodness, had he been nodding off? He felt his cheeks redden.

“Forgive me. I’m afraid I…” He thought about lying, but decided he was too tired to bother. “Well, I haven’t been sleeping well.”

Master Windu looked like he might say something else, but didn’t. It wasn’t necessary. Instead, he stood up and offered a hand to Obi-Wan. He pulled him to his feet.

“Best get some sleep. Morning will be here before we know it, and Young Skywalker isn’t getting any mellower.”

“Don’t remind me,” Obi-Wan said as they left the dojo. “Goodness, aren’t you tired yourself? It is nearly 3 in the morning. What were you doing out this late?”

Maybe he shouldn’t have asked – that was a rather forward question, and Master Windu was still his superior. But he seemed to consider his answer. There was a long pause before he drew a breath, and Obi-Wan was surprised to hear it quiver.

“Qui-Gon Jinn was my friend, too.”

He didn’t have a chance to respond. Master Windu started down the hallway, his footsteps echoing against the marble walls. He disappeared around the corner, leaving Obi-Wan to stare at the empty hallway before finally turning in the opposite direction. He hardly remembered his tired body carrying him home.

He always dreaded it a little bit – going back to the apartment, and falling asleep in a bed that had once been Qui-Gon’s. But in the morning the sun would come up as always. He would rise a little bit easier than the day before. He would make breakfast for Anakin, and begin with his training, and do what needed to be done.

And perhaps, he could find the will to forgive himself for his worst act, as Qui-Gon would have. To see himself as more.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! This too me a while to write – I’ve never written Mace Windu at all before (and tbh I don't like him that much lol), and getting into a younger Obi-Wan’s head was harder than I expected it to be. He’s still developing that wisdom and humor I love so much during the Clone Wars era, so I had to figure out how to portray him while he’s still coming into his own. Let me know how I did!
> 
> The mission to Pijal mentioned is a reference to the book Master & Apprentice by Claudia Gray. So is the “people are more than their worst act” line, so I take no credit for those ideas, obviously. I highly recommend that book if you love Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan!
> 
> Last thing - I'm on tumblr now! Come say hello! [ KCKenobi ](https://kckenobi.tumblr.com/)


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